# 337: Ocean
Story behind the Passage
When I think of the ocean, I sometimes think of Hemingway. And when I think of Hemingway, I think of Cuba. I was still a teenager when I first visited the island and when the tourist guide showed us the bar “La Floridita,” she also showed us the corner where Hemingway was supposedly sitting and drinking his head off. I have no idea why that memory stuck so much but whenever I think of Cuba, that story comes to my mind. Even when I later spent a few months in Cuba, the first thing I thought of was Hemingway’s drinking. Or, to be more precise, whenever I had a drink, I did think of his drinking.
I believe this story stayed so much on my mind because it somehow demonstrated this immense dichotomy between being a brilliant writer and being pretty much a psycho, i.e., at the end of your mental strength. After all, the alcohol did not kill him but he did it himself. He shot himself. But you can also argue, of course, that killing yourself it just the tipping point of memories killing you “softly” and slowly. So, somehow I was quite alert to the depressed personality of writers, even when I was still young and writing was not really on my mind back then. Or maybe it was, I do not know. I just know that I had not read anything by Hemingway back then.
The Old Man and the Sea is one of his most well-known novels and it became his last one. I have to admit, I think, I have never read the entire book, just half of it or so. I should not admit something like this because I am an American Studies scholar by training. So, you should have read at least this book by Hemingway. But somehow there was never the right time for it and for me. There is always a right time for a book. And it is very easy to know when this time has come. It is simply that you want to read this particular book all of a sudden and you swallow the words because they suddenly stick. Before, you might have been bored or whatever when reading this very book but now, you are open and the content is just pouring into your soul — like water smoothly flowing down the river.
My Learnings
Have not heard your voice for so long,
White bubbles in the sand.
Sun glimmering in your waves,
Swans diving for the unknown.
How can we forget such beauty?
The smell of your salt,
The touch of your softness.
Seamen standing on the boat,
naked chests,
cigarette burning.
eyes ahead.
The sea is so near,
It is a shame.
We could see you every day,
But we are busy with our small lives.
So much history in the water,
So many lives depending on you.
The faithful and the criminals,
The lovers and the losers,
They visit you at night,
Fill you with their tears.
Water is life,
This is all we have.
It might be long,
It might be short.
It is good that we do not know.
We want to know too much.
This is why we do not live.
You are full of life,
All the creatures underneath,
Dancing and singing,
We cannot hear them.
The wine would not grow,
Without your nourishment.
The nuns would not live,
Where your path took them.
What did you tell me today?
Did I listen well?
Or was it my voice leading the rhythm.
Your voice got louder,
Your waves got bigger.
Then there was silence.
I took my book,
And read next to you.
So much peace by the river,
So much quietness as a friend.
You told me something,
And then I closed the book.
I feel it is what I needed.
Without seeing it before.
But what I need most,
Is the sound of your voice,
And the view of your beauty.
I will visit you soon again.
I promise you, the ocean.
Reflection Questions
1) What does the ocean mean to you?
2) Is there any place which you particularly associate with the sea?
3) When did you last go on a vacation in your own country? How was it?